Getting Out
by crazysockmonkeys
Summary: Bailey feels lucky when someone asks a favor of her that will allow her to take a detour from work, but it ends up being more of an adventure than she had originally thought it would be. One-shot following "Pilot (Part Two)".


Bailey sighed deeply as she stepped off the elevator. She didn't have it in her to work today, not after yesterday with all of the cameras and reporters around to witness in the small protest taking place at the station. True, she was glad that it had happened, but it had been rather exhausting dodging the cameras and speaking her best for newspaper interviews. Now, she'd experience the aftermath, and she had plenty of work to do.

When she had strolled into the lobby, Jennifer stopped her abruptly. "Uh, Bailey," she began. "I have a small favor to ask you, that is, if you're not too busy."

Flustered, Bailey wondered what the favor could be while she contemplated how to answer. "No, I'm not…busy."

For the first time, she noticed the fluffy white cat sitting on Jennifer's desk. "Mr. Harrison!" Bailey said, remembering one of the little old lady protestors who had lost her cat, a fuzzy fellow by the name of Mr. Harrison.

"Yes, he turned up last night. Apparently, Mr. Carlson sat on him."

Bailey chuckled. "Oh…"

"Mr. Carlson had no choice but to take it home with him, and this morning he dropped it off with me and told me to do something with it. I found his owner's address, but I don't have the time to get up and run it over there myself, and I don't really trust anyone else around here to get it home safely. Think you could help me out?"

"Well, sure Jennifer, I'll take him home."

"Thank you, Bailey, you're a dear."

Bailey smiled at the compliment as Jennifer handed her the address and the cat.

She went to her desk to set down her purse and caught the eye of Herb, who glided toward her desk in his rolling office chair.

"Is that that old lady's cat?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Taking it home?"

"Yes."

"Big Guy tell you to?"

"No, Jennifer did asked me to do it," she said, and added, just for fun, "She said she didn't trust anyone else to."

Herb was silent for a moment and Bailey smiled. "Pity," was all he said as he rolled back to his desk.

As she walked away, she could hear Les' thin chuckle emanating from his desk.

…

When she had reached her car, she placed Mr. Harrison in the passenger's seat and looked at the address in Jennifer's perfect handwriting. She thought for a moment and planned out her route, and then started off into the morning.

The drive took her longer than expected, but she didn't mind, so long as it meant missing work. The house of the old lady was a drab white with black shudders on the windows and small columns on the porch. She scooped up Mr. Harrison, who gave a meow of protest, and grinned. Cats were such curious creatures, and although her own cat, Renata, was quiet and graceful, Mr. Harrison appeared to be noisy and unfriendly, at least with strangers. Bailey looked at him with a faint fondness and knocked on the door rather loudly, not sure how well the old woman could hear. After time had passed with no answer, she knocked again, calling, "Hello?" Still no answer.

Concerned, she forced herself to get louder. "Hello?!"

_Perhaps she isn't home, _Bailey thought, _or perhaps something's happened to her…_

She bit the corner of her lip and went to look through a window. Through it, she saw the old woman lying motionless on the couch, and panic ran through Bailey slowly. She tried the door and found it unlocked, and she left the door slightly ajar as she walked over to the couch.

Relieved to have found the woman asleep, Bailey placed a hand on the woman's arm. "Umm…ma'am? I have your…" She cleared her throat. "Cat. I have your cat." There came no reply. "Ma'am?" She said, louder. "I have Mr. Harrison. It's…Bailey. Do you remember me, from the station? The radio station?"

There wasn't a sound in the house except for Mr. Harrison's sour meow.

"I'll bet you know how to wake her up," said Bailey to the cat as she set him down on to his owner. In an instant he bolted and ran for the door that she had foolishly left open.

"Mr. Harrison!" She called after him, running full speed for the door and outside. "Mr. Harrison!" She said again, cursing herself for what she had caused.

She looked all around her for places he might be hiding in and searched, yelling his name intermittently. After a few minutes she crept around to the back, putting her hand on the side of the house as she walked and getting her skin dirty. The back of the house was nothing much, just a lawn with growing grass, an average-sized tree, and a porch swing against the house.

When she looked up into the tree, that was when she saw the mass of white and she gasped. "Mr. Harrison, please," she begged the cat. He meowed long and low and yawned at her. She tightened her first, becoming frustrated now. The tree's branches bent low to the ground and it wouldn't be too difficult to climb. That seemed to be her only choice. Looking up and brushing her light brown hair out of her face, she kicked off her shoes and began to climb the tree. _It's a good thing I'm wearing pants today and not a skirt, _she thought.

Although she hadn't climbed a tree since she was a child, it felt nice. She smiled as she finally reached the cat, although as she groped for it it began to run. Leaning forward as much as possible, she caught Mr. Harrison by his tail and he flipped around and bit her hard. "Ow!" She exclaimed, louder than she had wanted to. Angrily, she pulled the cat into her arms and climbed down, putting her shoes back on and beginning to walk towards the front of the house.

"Hey!" She heard from her left. Her anger left as nerves kicked in. It was large, bald, aging man standing on his front porch, still in his pajamas. "Whadaya think you're doin'?" He asked her.

"I…uh…you see, she lost Mr. Harrison, and I was just bringing him back to her," she said, as confidently as she could, which wasn't much at that moment.

"I saw how he just bit you like that. Sure he wasn't bein' defensive of his owner's things?"

"Uh…no."

"You sure look like you're hidin' somethin'."

"I'm not, trust me."

"Why should I trust you?"

Just then, a woman in a bathrobe came out and looked inquisitively at Bailey and the man on the porch next to her. "Brucey, whadaya doin'?"

"Caught this one with the old lady's cat, snoopin' around in the back."

"Bruce, leave the pretty lady alone. Look at her, do you really think she'd try to steal somethin'?"

"Could be a disguise. Looks like she's hidin' somethin', Doll."

"You men don't know nothin'. She looks shy to me. Get back in the house, Bruce."

"Doll—"

"I said get back in the house, Bruce."

The man turned around and went back inside. "Sorry, missy," said the lady. "He overreacts. Always goes a-lookin' for trouble."

"Thank you," said Bailey with a smile.

The woman smiled back and went into the house herself.

Exasperated, Bailey went back inside, closed the door, and saw the old woman still had not woken up, thought her snoring indicated that she was fine. She sighed deeply, set Mr. Harrison down next to his owner yet again, opened the door, closed it again, and left.

On the way back, she tried to get herself calmed down to go back to work, but it didn't work so well. She was antsy and eager for peace and quiet, which she knew she wouldn't get back at the station. Nevertheless, she smiled at Jennifer when she had arrived back in the lobby and told her it had been done.

"I was beginning to wonder about you," Jennifer said. "That took longer than I expected."

"Well, I ran into some…complications, but it was all right in the end."

"I'm glad. Thank you again."

"Well," Bailey said, "anything to get out of work."


End file.
